Errors
by highland laurel
Summary: Two dead Cherokee trappers lead Daniel and Mingo to discoveries about a troubled miner and their own friendship. Contains references to "A Rope for Mingo" and "The Flaming Rocks".
1. Chapter 1

Errors

Errors

_To understand a man you must know his memories._

_ Fredrich Nietzsche_

The odor was barely discernible in the frosty Kentucky air. Daniel Boone stood still, his shoulders slumped in distress. He released a deep sigh. Beside him Mingo stood silently, his dark eyes sliding from one still form to the other. The two Cherokee trappers had been dead several days. December cold had preserved their bodies in grotesque postures. Mingo bent and retrieved a piece of a broken knife blade. He held it in the palm of his brown hand.

"A white man, Daniel." Mingo pointed to the frozen ground. Deeply incised in the Kentucky soil was a single footprint, the square heel easily visible. The track was made by a boot, not a moccasin. The temperatures had been above freezing for four days the previous week. Then the December cold returned with a light snow. The killing had to have taken place during the warm spell for the ground to be imprinted.

Scattered around the ruined camp were the remains of two knives, the blades broken. Both the men's rifles had been likewise shattered. Whoever had destroyed the two lives had done it brutally, with understanding of Indian ways. Mingo knelt beside the nearest trapper and carefully lifted the man's frozen right hand. The first knuckle had been taken from the middle three fingers. The warrior would not be able to fire a rifle or shoot a bow in the next world. He would be maimed for all eternity. Bitterly Mingo spat onto the frozen earth.

"Who is the nearest settler, Daniel? Who would know of travelers in this area?"

Daniel swallowed and avoided Mingo's burning eyes. He knew the nearest settler. It was Joseph Garth. The silence lingered until Mingo frowned in puzzlement. He stood and stepped before his friend, trying to look into Daniel's downcast eyes.

"Daniel? What are you trying to avoid telling me?"

Raising his light green eyes Daniel attempted to keep his voice from betraying his suspicions to Mingo. "The nearest settler is to the west. A man and his wife, from Virginia." In the returned silence Mingo pieced the slight clues together and added a name to Daniel's description.

"Joseph Garth! He would indeed be capable of this murder, Daniel. I remember how brutal and hate-filled he was. I sincerely doubt that a move into Kentucky has mellowed him to any degree."

"That's exactly why I didn't want to tell you Mingo. You're jumpin' to conclusions based on your memories of the man. He's prob'bly completely innocent."

Mingo's eyes narrowed as he remembered his treatment at the hands of Joseph Garth. The miner had treated the honey he'd given to the Tuscarora with nightshade, causing everyone in the camp to drop into a hallucinogenic trance. He, Daniel and Jeremiah had been in the camp and were drugged also. He was taken to the Garth coal mine along with all the young Tuscarora men. Once there they were put to work mining coal for Joseph Garth. Mingo's eyes flashed with angry fire as he remembered the humiliation suffered at the hands of the driven man.

"Daniel, I am going to his cabin to question him. I believe that he _is_ a likely suspect in these murders. You don't have to accompany me. You may continue on to Boonesborough. I will stash my load of furs here and return for them later." Realizing how blunt his words must sound to his friend, Mingo's eyes softened as he continued. "Rebecca and Israel are no doubt anxiously awaiting your return."

Daniel looked deeply into Mingo's eyes for several seconds. He could see the anger and judgment residing there. He slipped the furs from his back as he spoke. "Mingo, I'm goin' with you. I don't have any great fondness for Joseph Garth either. But he does have the right to be considered innocent."

Mingo did not accept the chastisement well. He clenched his jaw and advanced toward his tall companion. "Like I was considered innocent, Daniel, under similar circumstances?"

Daniel blushed slightly as he too remembered the incident that nearly cost Mingo his life. The Silas Morgan family was brutally murdered on the trail to Boonesborough. Silas had just whipped Mingo for interfering with a cheating trade he was attempting. The brutal whipping continued until the blood streamed down the Cherokee's strong back and he fell into unconsciousness. The scars Mingo carried on his lean body were not as damaging as those he carried in his heart.

Daniel knew that those scars were keeping his friend from being as fair as usual. Combined with the wounds that Joseph Garth inflicted, Mingo was now nearly incapable of being objective. The dead Cherokee before them were an additional tally to the total heart wounds.

With an angry glance at Daniel, Mingo too slipped the fur pack from his shoulders. He silently began to gather brush to cover the year's catch. Daniel worked beside him for more than an hour. No words passed between the two. Anger and memories were a very effective barrier. The afternoon sun began to weaken as they finished their task and turned to lifting the dead Cherokee into the nearby trees.

Though the winter darkness was upon them Mingo would not remain overnight in the place of death. After both warriors were securely wedged into a tall cottonwood's branches he silently bent, retrieved his rifle and camp pack, then strode purposefully into the surrounding forest. Daniel watched him for several seconds before likewise taking his equipment and following the rigid back of his disappearing friend.

Mingo stopped a half-mile from the massacre site and still in silence leaned his rifle and pack against an outcropping of limestone. He stepped forward and picked up a stick of firewood, following the same direction for several more steps as he gathered. Daniel cleared a space on the frozen ground only a few feet in front of the outcropping. He picked up small sticks to use as tinder and had a fire started in only a few minutes. While Mingo continued to gather firewood he scooped clean snow into his coffeepot from the leeward side of the trees. He had coffee started before Mingo returned with his arms full of firewood.

Mingo filled his camp pot with clean snow, dropped in the frozen chunk of venison he'd saved from their last kill, and set the pot into the flames to boil. The two men sat before the warm fire, alone with their thoughts. The winter moon began to rise in the east throwing cold blue shadows upon them. Finally Daniel turned to the silent Cherokee beside him, his long arms wrapped around his body, his long legs bent and crossed before him.

"Mingo, I'll talk to the Garths alone if you don't think you can without already judging him guilty."

Mingo's eyes bored into Daniel's, the anger clearly visible in the dark orbs. Daniel set his jaw stubbornly and continued to face his most trusted friend. Mingo's brows lowered and his eyes narrowed as the anger took hold of his mind.

"Montaige said 'Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.' That describes my situation perfectly. Days pass by and I don't think about Silas Morgan. Then something happens and the memory returns in all its horror. All its horror, Daniel!" Mingo unconsciously shifted further away from Daniel's side. The involuntary movement pierced Daniel's heart and he dropped his eyes to hide the pain. He understood Mingo's last words perfectly.

Softly the tall Kentuckian spilled words into the night. They steamed in the bitter cold. "Mingo, I'm a magistrate. In that role I'm responsible for administering the law. I don't have to agree with it or disagree with it. It is a condition of the office."

Mingo's head turned so quickly that his black braids swung around his shoulders. "Exactly! The office meant more to you than my life."

"No, Mingo, no! You don't understand. I HAD to take you into custody to protect you."

"Am I a child that I need your protection? You see Daniel, with every word you insult me more."

Mingo leaped to his feet and strode into the surrounding darkness.

Before the fire Daniel pondered Mingo's last words. They had been spoken with deep sorrow. Alone before the warmth and light of the fire Daniel began to understand Mingo's viewpoint. In the dark winter night Daniel sat silently, the fragrance of boiling venison no temptation as he struggled with his new knowledge.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

An hour later Mingo returned to the campsite. His heart was much quieter. He had released much of the mounting anger into the Kentucky forest. Daniel was leaning against the outcrop, a blanket around his shoulders, his eyes closed. The little fire was nearly out. Quietly Mingo leaned over and placed several sticks of firewood onto the fire. He had gathered another armload as he walked the moonlit forest. As the wood caught and the blaze revived Daniel opened his eyes and gazed with fondness upon the firelit Cherokee.

"I saved you your share of the meat." Daniel's voice was warm with affection.

Mingo's eyes flicked to his friend's face and he nodded. He leaned over and pierced the warm meat with his knife, then leaned back against the boulders and began to eat. Daniel reached for the coffeepot and poured a hot cup of coffee for the Cherokee. Their eyes locked as Mingo accepted the cup from Daniel's outstretched hand.

"Mingo, I think I understand a little bit better now. You're right. I didn't treat you as a man. But you've got to understand my position too. Are you ready to listen to me now?"

Mingo dropped his gaze into the little fire. He slowly nodded his dark head and continued to gnaw at the chunk of meat balanced on the tip of his knife. His strong white teeth glinted in the winter moonlight. Daniel smiled and leaned back, pulling the blanket around his shoulders tightly.

"I admit that I didn't know what to do. Cincinnatus and Jericho didn't believe you'd killed the Morgans. Only Zach was convinced at first. Becky never did believe you had killed them. She said you'd never kill a woman or boy no matter the circumstances. But even she wasn't sure about Silas. You could have killed him. We all knew that. We knew that you were a Cherokee warrior. Your knife _was_ in Silas's chest, your vest was on the ground and your necklace beads were in the boy's hand. How? Do you know?"

Mingo sighed deeply and closed his eyes. "Daniel, I've relived the entire episode from beginning to end, over and over and over. I remember coming down the road to Boonesborough. I remember the boy stepping from the timber. I remember Silas Morgan's anger towards me for stopping his cheating. I remember him clubbing me in the face with his rifle."

Mingo's head dropped onto his chest and his black hair hung like a curtain over his closed countenance. Beside him Daniel clenched his hands as he listened to Mingo's words. "I regained consciousness hung from the tree. My vest was already gone. I have no idea where."

"I have thought about this many times, Daniel. I remember hearing the woman tell her husband not to whip me. But he said he had to teach me a lesson. A lesson! He was more successful than he imagined. I learned several lessons from those bitter days." Mingo stopped talking and retreated farther into himself. Daniel reached out and touched his friend's arm. The muscles were like iron.

"Mingo, you've got to tell me so I can understand. For your sake, and mine, and other innocent people that you'll meet. Or I'll meet. Please. What happened next?"

"He whipped me! I have no idea the passage of time. All my being was concentrating on the pain." Mingo's voice trailed away. Daniel leaned closer to hear Mingo's quiet words. "My necklace was gone when I awoke, crawling. I think the boy must have taken it from my neck. I imagine he took my knife too."

"All I could think about then was the humiliation. And my thirst for revenge, coursing through my body as a physical desire. Daniel, you have no idea what it's like to be whipped. I told you when you found me in the Choctaw camp. But you didn't listen. You didn't believe me." Mingo's voice dripped with the poisonous accusation. Daniel winced and shook his head silently.

"It's not that I didn't believe you. I had to have proof!"

Mingo lifted his eyes to Daniel's face. "Do you know how it would have helped me if you had said that you believed me?"

Daniel swallowed, closed his eyes and pressed his lips tightly together. "I do know. It bothers me still that I didn't tell you that. I don't know why I didn't. I was trying to be fair. I was trying to be the magistrate. Once I let the moment pass I couldn't go back. I couldn't tell you. It was too late. Events were out of my control."

Mingo stared at his friend's tortured face. Softly, very softly his deep voice drifted into the Kentucky frost. "Silas Morgan punished two men that day, didn't he Daniel?"

Startled at the depth of Mingo's understanding, Daniel could only nod. Reaching his brown hand to his friend's arm, Mingo squeezed in affection. Daniel raised his light eyes to Mingo's face. His words were spoken in a whisper. "Thank you."

Mingo's smile lit his handsome face. He again raised his knife and bit off a chunk of boiled venison. The winter night chilled their bodies but their newly mended friendship warmed their hearts.

Though the two remained silent, when Mingo finished eating and pulled his blankets free of his pack he spread one across his legs and over Daniel's. He draped the other over his own shoulders. The two men leaned back against the outcropping, shoulders touching, as they slipped into slumber. Together they would face whatever the new day brought.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hours later the sunrise reached weakly through the bare trees and wakened the sleeping men. They stiffly leaned forward, got to their feet and stretched. While Mingo gathered more firewood Daniel kindled the little fire with the remaining sticks. The two men made a quick breakfast of frozen jerky strips softened in boiling water. Then they drank the hot broth, packed their blankets and camp equipment, and set off toward the Garth cabin.

They arrived near midday. Daniel walked boldly onto the porch and knocked. Beside him Mingo's face was carefully blank. Only his dark eyes conveyed his disquiet. The door opened to reveal Evelyn Garth, wiping her hands on her damp apron. Her tired, lined face lit with a soft smile as she recognized Daniel.

"Mr. Boone! It's so good to see you. Come in. And your friend too." Evelyn opened the door wide and beckoned them inside. Around the little table sat four chairs. Daniel exchanged a look with Mingo as they remembered the other Garth cabin where the chairs had been hung from the walls to discourage idleness. Apparently Joseph Garth was attempting a new way of life in Kentucky.

But their observations were put to nought as Evelyn continued to speak. "Mr. Garth isn't here. He's over at the mine."

Daniel's voice was too loud as he exclaimed "The mine!"

Evelyn's eyes begged for understanding as she continued. "The land here has coal deposits, Mr. Boone. Mr. Garth chose this land because of it."

"Excuse me Mrs. Garth, but didn't I overhear your husband declare that he was finished with mining before you came here?" Mingo's question hung in the silence. Evelyn bent before the hearth in an attempt to hide her face. But the two tall men saw her expression nevertheless.

"He tried to farm. But he knows mining so much better! Please try to understand. A man's got to be what he is."

Mingo's quick intake of breath alarmed Daniel. He knew what his friend was thinking because he himself was thinking the same thing. Joseph Garth had tried but failed to change his ways. "A man's got to be what he is." Before Mingo could say something to alarm the thin, tired woman Daniel grasped her arm and bent to look into her face.

"Where's the mine, Mrs. Garth? Which way?"

Evelyn looked for several seconds into Daniel's eyes. She stiffened her spine and clamped her lips tightly shut.

"Please, ma'am. There's been a killing and we just want to talk to your husband. He might know something about it. I'm a magistrate here in Kentucky and I'm investigating. That's all."

Evelyn considered for several more seconds then pointed silently to the south. Mingo and Daniel exchanged a look of alarm. "That way less than a mile, Mr. Boone. He works every day. He's a good man." She looked into Mingo's eyes. "He's a good man. What he did to you was wrong and he's sorry."

Mingo gently replied as he looked into her anxious face. "Are you sure he's working every day, Ma'am? Couldn't he be off somewhere else and you'd be unaware?"

Evelyn's expression told the two men that she knew of that possibility. She bowed her head and turned once again to the hearth. Sadly Mingo and Daniel walked through the stout door and off the little porch. Without conversation they strode to the south, their minds mulling over the possibilities.

A little more than a half-mile from the cabin the two men could see the tunnel opening in the side of a hill. Daniel motioned for Mingo to stand away from the mouth as he bent and walked into the narrow tunnel. Only a few feet into the shaft he could see Joseph Garth wielding a pickaxe. At his feet were several inches of coal pried from the vein. Grasping his rifle carefully in case the startled man swung at him, Daniel cleared his throat and spoke. "Hello, Mr. Garth."

The strong, stocky man whirled in surprise, the pick held defensively. In the dim light he could make out a tall, heavy man. "Mr. Boone?"

Daniel nodded and gestured to the opening. "Let's go outside, Mr. Garth. I need to talk to you." Daniel turned and left the tunnel, Joseph Garth a few feet behind. Mingo paced before the mouth, trying hard to compose himself.

Joseph Garth shot a startled look at the tall Cherokee. Mingo stopped pacing and stood with his feet apart, bracing his body against an attack. But Joseph allowed the pick to drop harmlessly beside his booted feet. Mingo's eyes followed the tool and stared at the other man's heavy boots. Daniel saw the direction of Mingo's stare and stepped forward.

"Mr. Garth, Mingo and I were returning home from our trap lines and we found a ruined Cherokee camp with two murdered men. Tracks on the ground were made by a white man wearing boots. Did you see anyone come by here a week or so ago, before the freeze?"

Joseph Garth's black eyes focused on Daniel's face as he replied. "I ain't seen another soul, red, black or white, in near on to two months. Not since October, Mr. Boone. Me and my wife've been busy makin' our home here. We haven't been off the place since we got here more'n a year ago."

Mingo stepped forward, his dark eyes hard with suppressed dislike. "You haven't been anywhere? Not even to hunt?"

Joseph saw the challenge in Mingo's eyes and lifted his chin defiantly. "No need. There's a salt lick north of the cabin. I can go and shoot anything I want, any time I want."

Mingo's face betrayed his doubt and Joseph Garth took a challenging step toward the tall Cherokee. "I don't like bein' thought a liar, Indian."

"Perhaps then you should behave in such a way as to place yourself above all suspicion."

Mingo's lips were lifted in an expression of disdain and dislike. His eyes glittered with anger. Daniel shoved between them before Joseph could push Mingo and start a fistfight that could easily escalate into something more serious.

"Mingo…." Daniel said warningly. His hand grasped Mingo's wrist as the Cherokee's right hand reached for the knife at his belt. Behind him Dan could feel Joseph Garth struggling to get around his tall body and grab Mingo. Pushing Mingo backwards Daniel fought to keep the two men from seriously harming each other.

Mingo saw the desperate look in Daniel's eyes and relaxed his hand. Daniel spun to face Joseph Garth and pushed against the heavy man's chest. Just at that moment Evelyn rang the noon dinner bell. The bright sound echoed through the forest. The three men glared at each other but Joseph dropped his fists, shoved past Daniel and started back to his cabin. After thirty yards he turned and shouted at Mingo.

"You'd better be clear of here before I come back or I'll finish what you started. Hear me!"

Mingo lunged forward but Daniel caught his muscular arm and held tightly. "Don't Mingo! That's just what he wants. Let's trail back to the trappers' camp from here and look for sign." Daniel nodded to his friend whose brown face was flushed with impotent rage. With great effort Mingo managed to nod his assent. He led the way, his long stride indicative of his intense emotion.

The two men had only gone a hundred yards when Mingo's sharp eyes spotted another boot print. "Daniel! Come here." Mingo beckoned urgently and Daniel trotted to his side. Pressed deeply in the frozen sod was another square-heeled boot print. Mingo walked slowly forward, bent at the waist, looking for another print. Two yards farther he found one under a leafless blackberry bush. He straightened and sighed, his face drawn into a mask of anger and hatred. There could be no doubt. Joseph Garth had killed Mingo's tribesmen.

An hour later Mingo sat drawn into himself. His blanket was draped around his shoulders and his feet were only inches from the blaze. Daniel sat across from him, trying once again to make the angry Cherokee see the possibilities. Once again he opened his mouth to try a different tack, but Mingo overrode his words with words of his own.

"Daniel, let's look at this logically, not emotionally. One, two of my people are dead. Two, they were killed by a man wearing heavy boots. Three, Joseph Garth wears heavy boots. Four, this same Joseph Garth views Indians as lazy, shiftless, worthless, and valuable only to work as he sees fit, as slaves. He's guilty Daniel. All the evidence points to him."

"It does look bad, Mingo, but remember your own situation. Your vest on the ground, your knife in a dead man's chest, and your beads in a dead boy's hand."

"But you didn't know about Morgan whipping me, so what was my motive? And if you had bothered to look you'd have noticed the marks on the ground where I crawled into the forest! You'd have seen my blood."

The two men looked at each other in aggravation. Suddenly Mingo's eyes widened as a new thought entered his flexible mind. "You didn't even think about a motive! You all were accusing me based on finding my things. You immediately assumed that I was capable of murdering a woman and a boy! Why would any of you think such a thing about me? I've never given ANY of you a reason to entertain such an idea. Especially you!"

Daniel hung his head in shame. Every word spoken by the Cherokee was true. He had been pushed along in the excitement of the moment. The evidence had been flimsy from the start. Mingo was right about looking for sign. Even though the ground around the bodies and wagon was trampled he could have found Mingo's trail by the tree.

He could easily have followed the scrapes Mingo's body made on the ground as he crawled. He could have spotted the blood Mingo's wounds smeared on the leaves as he brushed against shrubs and bushes. He could have known his friend was wounded.

Mingo sprang to his feet as he too thought of all the arguments. He stalked rapidly into the forest and disappeared. The sound of his passage diminished quickly as he walked farther and farther away from Daniel. In only seconds the sound of his footfalls ended.

Daniel sighed heavily and leaned back against the tree behind him. It was quite possible that he'd just lost his dearest, most dependable friend. The fragile peace that Mingo helped hold in place may just have been shattered. The daylight dimmed as heavy clouds obscured the sun. It was a metaphor for the disaster Daniel expected to befall his people in the very near future. All because of groundless accusations and prejudice.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Snowflakes began to fall an hour later. Daniel drank the last of the coffee and packed. He needed to find a cave to shelter him from the gathering storm. The flakes fell faster and thicker as he strode toward the southeast. He and Mingo had passed a cave before they found the dead Cherokee men. Was that only yesterday? Daniel sighed heavily. The past twenty-four hours had seemed an age. He felt ancient. His life seemed a travesty, a collection of mistakes and unfulfilled promises. He trudged over the frozen ground, his head down and his heart heavy.

The cave was a welcome shelter as the white flakes spun on the gathering wind. He was surprised to find an armload of wood piled about five feet into the opening. Just as he bent to examine the prints on the damp floor a sigh behind him caused him to whirl, his rifle held ready to fire. Mingo stood stiffly before him, his arms filled with another load of wood. The two men stared at each other, the recent breach threatening to split into a chasm. Long minutes passed. Then Mingo bent and laid the wood on the ground. His voice was thin, not the usual full and vibrant baritone.

"Daniel, for my part I am willing to share this cave with you. Since I was here first I believe that it is my decision to make." The careful words dropped coldly at Daniel's feet. The big frontiersman leaned his rifle against the cave wall and nodded. The two silent men unpacked their equipment as Mingo's little fire began to throw its heat and light against the limestone walls.

Still in silence Mingo took his rifle and was screened by a veil of snow the instant he stepped from the cave's lip. Daniel sat brooding as he waited for Mingo's return, the coffeepot he'd filled sending forth the welcoming aroma of fresh coffee.

Mingo stepped back into the cave with a yearling deer more than two hours later. Daniel scooted to the Cherokee's side to help slice the meat from the carcass. Nearly another hour passed before Mingo turned to the man at his side. "The salt lick is large. There were a dozen deer there today. This one was careless."

Daniel reached for the opening Mingo had given him and grabbed onto the hope it promised. "Garth's salt lick?"

Mingo nodded. "It's about a half-mile from his cabin, just as he said. And that's not all, Daniel. There are two sets of boot prints at the lick. One is probably Joseph Garth's. They lead to and from his cabin."

Daniel's knife froze in midair as he assimilated Mingo's clues. "Two sets of prints? Who made the other set?"

"I don't know Daniel but I intend to find out. They parallel Garth's. Both were recent but made before the freeze." Mingo's dark eyes held Daniel's for several seconds. Daniel nodded, then reached for several strips of the fresh venison to cube into Mingo's camp pot. He rose and buoyantly crunched through the snow to the small pond only a few hundred yards to the south. When he returned his open face was split with a wide smile. Before the fire, Mingo's expression was pensive. Daniel plopped the pot into the fire and slapped Mingo's leg in affection.

"Daniel, though I admit that circumstances have changed concerning Joseph Garth I don't feel ready to completely abandon my initial suspicions. It is still quite possible that Garth killed my people. Or at the very least knows who did."

Though Daniel nodded his agreement he continued to sit smiling beside his friend. The two men watched the snow fall rapidly before their shelter as the afternoon dropped into evening.

After a filling supper of boiled venison the two men settled down to sleep. Their tall bodies just fit alongside the little cave's walls. Wrapped in blankets, drowsy with full stomachs, they both drifted easily into sleep. Mingo awoke only an hour later, doubt gnawing on his mind. There was something about the footprints in the Cherokee camp.

Mingo's mind reached to grasp the filaments of thought, trying to weave them into a whole cloth. The night was far gone before he slept again, still uneasy. He knew he was missing something, and that "something" was important. Daniel's heavy breathing lulled him into a deep slumber just as the darkness began its transformation to silvery grey.

Two hours later Daniel sat up and stretched. Beside him Mingo opened drowsy dark eyes. Daniel stirred the fire and set the leftover coffee into it to heat. He also placed the pot of leftover venison to warm. Mingo slowly raised himself to a sitting position.

"Daniel, I think we should go back to the Cherokee camp. There's something about that camp that is preying on my mind. I need to discover what it is. I know it's connected to Joseph Garth but I don't know how."

Daniel looked into Mingo's face for several heartbeats, then nodded. While Daniel heated breakfast Mingo took the remaining strips of frozen venison and placed them in his pack. The two men ate rapidly, finishing all the cooked venison and coffee. They were packed and heading back to the Cherokee camp within the hour.

As they approached the camp Mingo held out his hand in a gesture of caution. Bending from the waist he walked slowly into the ruined camp. The new snow blanketed the entire area. Mingo sighed heavily and stood still, trying to remember where he'd found the footprint. Cautiously he brushed the snow from the ground as he carefully placed his feet. Daniel stood behind him, waiting.

Suddenly Mingo dropped to his knees and brushed the snow from a deep impression. He slipped the mitten from his right hand and laid his hand over the heel print, measuring. The heel mark extended from his wrist along the curve of his outer hand to the base of his little finger. He crept forward, brushing the snow as he went. Uncovering other deep heel prints, Mingo measured each one with his own hand. They were all the same. He sat back on his heels, thinking. Suddenly he wheeled to face Daniel.

"Daniel, let's go to the salt lick now. I think I know what's been troubling my mind!"

Mingo sprang to his feet and trotted swiftly in a northwesterly direction. After an hour he and Daniel were at the edge of the lick. Again Mingo extended his hand in a gesture of caution. Then he stood still and lined his body between the Garth cabin and the lick. He beckoned his companion and Daniel walked to stand beside his friend.

"Daniel, look for footprints. If my hunch is correct I'm going to have to change my mind about Joseph Garth."

Anxiously Daniel brushed the snow away, looking for tracks. It was a slow process and he found nothing for the space of nearly an hour. Then his voice rang through the wintry air as he called Mingo to his side.

The two bent and looked at the deep impression. Mingo knelt and laid his hand over the mark. The heel extended far along the curve of his hand to nearly the knuckle of his little finger. It was not made by the same man as the print in the Cherokee camp. Mingo looked long into Daniel's eyes, then gazed in the direction of the Garth's cabin.

After another thirty minutes the two men had discovered several dozen tracks. Some were smaller than the others. Mingo sighed and stood. "The smaller prints match the prints at the camp." Mingo's voice was softer than usual, indicating a level of distress.

"I'll go and measure his heel, Mingo. You stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Mingo mulled Daniel's offer in his mind for several seconds, then shook his head. "No, Daniel. If I erroneously believed in his guilt, I should be the one to make that discovery and issue the apology. Not you. I don't need your protection, my friend." Mingo's reference to the recent campfire conversation caused an embarrassed silence to settle between them. Then Mingo tapped Daniel on the arm and turned down the path to the Garth cabin. Right behind him strode Daniel Boone.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The knock on the cabin door brought Joseph Garth onto his snowy porch. He faced Dan and Mingo, his face set into an unfriendly frown. Behind him Evelyn stood holding the coffeepot in her small white hand. Her face was frozen into an expression of fear, like a rabbit caught in a quickly closing trap.

"May we come in, Joseph? It's cold out here and we've made a discovery that you need to hear." Daniel's voice was friendly but relayed authority and power. Joseph looked at his face, then glanced at Mingo. Silently the heavy man opened the door to allow the other men into his cabin.

"Would you care for some coffee Mr. Boone? And you too Mingo?" There was a discernible tremble in Evelyn's soft voice. Quickly Mingo shot a glance into Daniel's eyes. Daniel raised his eyebrows in response. The three men sipped their coffee in silence while Evelyn hovered nervously in the background.

After a few minutes passed Daniel cleared his throat. "Joseph, we found two sets of tracks at your salt lick, but only one set at the Cherokee camp. I'd like to see your boots, if you don't mind."

Joseph's black eyes turned hard as the coal he mined. He pushed his chair back, his face growing red with anger. The chair scraped along the floor as he stood. Near the fireplace Evelyn cowered and turned her face to the hearth. Mingo rose to stand beside her as Daniel stood to face Joseph Garth.

"I don't have to obey you, Daniel Boone. I'm not one of your settlers that you can push around as you like. Now get out! And don't come here again."

Daniel stood opposite the belligerent man, his hands clenched in readiness. "Daniel." Mingo's voice was low and insistent. The Cherokee gestured to the door and crossed the floor. Behind him he could hear Daniel's footsteps. They were through the door and off the porch in only two strides.

Once in the yard Mingo turned to the tall man at his side. "They are protecting someone. Mrs. Garth is nearly ill from the pressure. She was shaking." He turned into the snowy shelter of the forest. Daniel followed closely until the Cherokee turned once again to face him.

"I was remembering the way Garth ordered his sons about. Finally they rebelled against him. They forced him to see what he was doing to them. But think, Daniel. If you had been under control your whole life and were suddenly freed, what would you do?"

Daniel dropped his head as he thought about Mingo's question. He began to follow Mingo's line of thinking. How would the boys manage on their own? What was Evelyn afraid that they would find out? Logically, one or more of the boys was with them. Or had been with them. Which one?

In his mind Daniel thought of Joseph Garth's three sons. John, uncertain and biddable. Orville, unhappy about his father's choices. Stephen, resentful but compliant. Beside him Mingo voiced his opinion.

"Daniel, I think that Stephen is with them. John and Orville did not seem quite as much under their father's control."

Daniel nodded in agreement and turned back to the Garth cabin. He felt Mingo take his arm and stopped. "Daniel, is it wise to confront Joseph Garth? He is a very volatile man, quick-tempered and violent."

"I know it but if what we suspect is true then I need to take Stephen to Salem to answer for his crime."

"Yes, but will Joseph Garth relinquish his son? Tell me what you expect so that I may be as ready as possible in case he does react violently."

"Tell you the truth Mingo, I don't know what to expect myself. Let's do the best we can and trust to luck."

Mingo cocked his head and grimaced in annoyance but followed silently behind Daniel. The winter darkness was beginning to fall as the two men carefully walked across the Garth porch. They could see the glimmer of firelight through the cracks at the windows. Mingo cocked his rifle, the click loud in their ears. He nodded at Daniel and the big man grasped the latch string, lifted it, and swung the door to reveal the inside of the cabin.

Mingo aimed his rifle at Joseph Garth, sitting motionless before the fire. Slowly the stocky miner lifted his head, his black eyes staring at the frontiersmen before him. A whimper escaped Evelyn Garth's thin lips as she cowered in her chair. She covered her face with her apron and rocked in despair.

"Come on in, Mr. Boone. I've been expecting you. I thought you and your friend would call my bluff." He released a deep sigh and gestured to the two unoccupied chairs. Mingo uncocked his rifle and propped it against the table beside his chair. Daniel did the same, then leaned forward to listen to Joseph's admission.

"We'd built this little cabin and moved in last fall. It was like when we were first married, Evelyn and me, and we were happy here. I'd scouted around a bit before we built, found the coal vein and salt lick, and knew we'd make a good life here. Orville came by one day not long after we'd built and told us he'd signed on as a freight hauler out of Clinch Station. He told us John was courting a pretty little miss near Salem and was planning on getting married. When I asked about Stephen Orville said he didn't know anything about him."

"Me'n Evelyn worried about that some, and then about two weeks ago here he came. He said he'd like to stay here and mine coal with me. He said he'd tried other things and didn't like them. So we let him stay."

Joseph Garth raised his eyes to Daniel's face. "He's my son, Mr. Boone. What else could I do?" He dropped his head and continued. "Last week me and him were at the lick, and there wasn't any game. He got impatient and said he was going to go and hunt up the biggest buck I'd ever seen. It was late in the night when he got back. We were in bed and heard him come in. Next morning I could tell something was wrong. Stephen was excited, couldn't sit still. When we went to the mine he told me."

"He said, 'Pa, I done something last night to make you proud. I killed me two Indians that were squatting close by here. That'll teach them heathens to squat on Garth land! I took their fingers, too, so's they won't trouble us none in the afterlife!' He went on to tell me exactly how he'd done it, knifing 'em in the back while they slept. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, Mr. Boone. I couldn't believe that I'd taught my boy to be so hateful and mean. But he showed me a pack of fresh furs he took from them and I had to believe."

Beside the fire the three men heard Evelyn's helpless sobs. Joseph rose and went to his wife's side. He gently stroked her blonde hair. "It's my fault, Mr. Boone. My fault. The way I treated the Tuscaroras, and your friend here, made Stephen think that I'd support killing in cold blood." The man shook his head sadly, the knowledge of his own culpability haunting every thought.

"Where's Stephen now?" Daniel's voice betrayed his sympathy for the grieving parents.

"I don't know, Mr. Boone. That's God's honest truth. When he told me what he'd done, I drove him away. I made him leave." Joseph dropped his head and his voice fell to a whisper. "I thought if he'd get away the law wouldn't find him. Take me instead. I'm the one that's responsible, not my boy. He was just trying to please me!"

Daniel sat thinking in the firelit cabin. He caught Mingo's eye and raised his eyebrows. Mingo tilted his head toward the door in response. Daniel nodded and rose. "I'll think on it tonight and come back tomorrow."

As he reached for the door he heard Joseph Garth's voice. "Spend the night in my shed, Mr. Boone. It's cold and there's no need for you to sleep out. Your Indian friend too. It's the least I can do for you."

The two men stepped out onto the porch and walked the twenty yards to the small shed. They unrolled their blankets and prepared to sleep. Mingo spied the pack of furs leaned against the south corner and investigated. He lifted the tail of a fine fox pelt as Daniel looked on in sadness. They stretched out on the dirt floor, burrowing into the soft soil as it conformed to their bodies. Several minutes later Mingo's voice penetrated the darkness. "Daniel, has it occurred to you that Garth might mean to come out here in the dead of night and burn this shed down with us inside? That would solve his immediate problem."

Daniel grunted his assent. Just then a knock on the door surprised them. Daniel rose and opened it, standing to the side as Mingo readied his knife to throw if necessary. Joseph stood outside, a large iron pot in his hands.

"Sorry to disturb you, but Evelyn thought you might be hungry. It's a rabbit stew. There's bread here in the sack. Eat it all, and welcome. I owe you, Mr. Boone, for showing me my faulty ways and giving me a chance to start over. My boys too. Even Stephen. Well, goodnight." The darkness enveloped the sturdy miner and Daniel and Mingo were left alone with the food.

They ate in silence. The situation gnawed at them. Neither one wanted to punish Joseph Garth for the death of the Cherokee trappers. They did not want to pursue Stephen Garth either. But both men knew that someone must be punished for the death of Mingo's people or the fragile peace would fragment and dissolve. Menewa had been adamant about punishing any killing on either side. And Stephen Garth was guilty. Or was he?

Daniel sat bolt upright as his mind reached for clarification. Beside him Mingo also sat, alerted by Daniel's movement.

"Mingo! It's possible that Joseph Garth is lying. Do you think he'd lie about his own son to save himself? There _are_ two sets of prints."

Mingo was silent for several seconds, then responded with his own question. "There are two sets of tracks, and we did assume that the smaller ones were Stephen. Can we somehow check Joseph's boots without him knowing?"

In the dark shed Daniel mused Mingo's question over in his mind. He flipped the blanket from his body and stood. Beside him the Cherokee did the same. In complete silence Daniel grabbed his rifle, opened the shed door and slipped into the freezing night.

Mingo was so close behind him that his warm breath steamed against the back of his head. Together they crept to the Garth porch. The latch string was pulled in for the night.

In the winter moonlight Daniel's expression was not easy to read. He beckoned to Mingo and they slipped off the porch and into the yard. He leaned over and whispered. "Mingo, let's check the mine. I know exactly where Garth was standing. We'll measure a print in the mine."

Mingo nodded and they both ran to the mine, arriving in less than five minutes. They searched for firewood and started a small fire. Daniel took the largest stick in his hand and the two men entered the dark tunnel. Carefully Daniel held the flaming stick low so Mingo could find a clear print. Next to the rock face a deep impression was visible. Mingo glanced at the torch uneasily, then bent to measure the print. When he straightened his lips were set grimly. His voice communicated his distress. "The prints at the camp are not Joseph Garth."

Daniel nodded and together they scattered the fire and returned to the storage shed. There they laid down and tried to sleep. But the images their mind created were not conducive to sleep, and the winter dawn found them still awake.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Daniel and Mingo tracked Stephen Garth to Clinch Station. He had fled to Orville's protection. Sadly the older brother handed Stephen into Daniel's custody. Hands bound behind his back, Stephen walked in silent surrender between his two captors. The two older men could tell that his bloody deed was preying upon his conscience. They watched him carefully, never leaving him alone.

When they delivered him to the constable in Salem and signed their sworn affidavits the two men were relieved that the journey was ended. They decided to spend the frigid night inside a warm tavern. Both of them were in a somber mood. They spoke little as they ate their meal and drank their tankards of ale.

There was no disagreement concerning the necessity of taking Stephen Garth to face his judgment. But the reason for the bloody deed, the years of control suffered by the young man at the hands of his stern father, preyed upon the minds of both men. Finally Daniel turned to Mingo, a question plain in his green eyes.

"Mingo, do you think I'm a failure as a father? Am I too hard on Mima and Israel? Maybe I'm too easy. I know that I tend to laugh at Israel's capers and I'm real protective of Mima. Do you think my younguns are going to grow up straight and true, or twisted?"

Mingo reached out and squeezed Daniel's forearm as he answered. "I know that both Jemima and Israel love you dearly. They want to make you proud of them, and I know that you are. I think that Jemima is growing into a lovely, strong, caring woman and will be as loving a mother and wife as she was a child. Israel is headstrong and adventurous, but he is learning to curb his recklessness. I think that he will grow into a man to make his parents proud."

"It's hard bein' a father, Mingo. There's no trail to follow. Every day you have to read the signs and work your way through the thicket. And still you get blindsided. Thank God I've got Becky! I can depend on her to keep both of 'em growing straight and tall."

Mingo smiled and nodded in agreement. Then his brown face grew sober as he remembered the Garth family. He swallowed the last of his ale as Daniel stood, his face also reflecting his thoughts concerning the Garths. They walked to their room and stood in the doorway, staring at the bed. Grinning, Mingo tossed his coat on the chair, pulled off his boots and laid down carefully still fully clothed. Daniel mimicked his friend, then pulled his two blankets free from his pack, handed one to Mingo, and the two laid side by side, their feet hanging over the bottom of the bed.

"Good night, Daniel. Sleep well." Daniel could hear the amusement in his friend's deep voice.

"At least we're warm, and the bed IS softer than the frozen ground." Daniel's point was well taken and Mingo laughed softly in reply. The two tired men fell quickly into a dreamless sleep.

They were awakened early in the morning by the constable knocking on their door. They each rolled off the bed. The agitated law officer bounded into the room and faced them.

"Garth's brother arrived last night and asked to visit. I allowed them to talk alone, and then Orville left. When I opened the jail this morning Stephen was gone! He's escaped, Mr. Boone. I'm sorry. I've gathered a posse and we'll set out in about an hour. I wanted you to know. Do you think he'd go back to Kentucky?"

Daniel looked quickly at Mingo, who shook his head. Daniel faced the constable with his own opinion. "I don't think so. His father told us about the murders. I don't think they'd harbor him. I think Stephen knows that. I have no idea where he'll go."

The constable hung his head, chagrined. "We'll do all we can to find him. I know that your peace treaty depends on punishment for his crime. I'll write you when I find him and tell you of his judgment. I believe he'll be condemned to death, especially after this jailbreak. It's too bad, a young man like that with his whole life ahead of him. Sad."

After the constable left Daniel bent to retrieve his blankets and rolled them while Mingo straightened the bed. Together the two men entered the taproom for breakfast. Neither was very hungry and before another hour was over they were heading back to Kentucky. They walked all day, only making camp when the weak winter sun slid behind the western horizon. Sitting before the blazing fire, drinking their last cups of coffee, they finally explored the subject that both were reluctant to broach.

"What will you tell Menewa, Mingo? We found the one responsible and turned him over to face justice. Will that be enough to satisfy him, do you think?" The edge in Daniel's voice betrayed his fear for the treaty.

Mingo stared into the fire for several seconds before he replied. "I will tell Menewa that we satisfied the law, Daniel. The life that Stephen will now lead is justice."

"What do you mean? He's free."

"Is he? He must run, and hide, and never disclose his identity. All his life he will know that he committed murder. Not once, but twice. He will at best be a shadow of himself. His own conscience will administer justice."

Several minutes passed before Daniel cleared his throat. "Mingo, that's the life that I didn't want for you. Do you understand that now?"

Mingo raised his dark eyes and the fire lit his features with a golden glow. "I had not committed murder Daniel."

"But you didn't know that! I remember you tellin' me that you weren't sure, that you could have done it."

"I could have killed Silas Morgan, yes. With great satisfaction I could I have ended his life, slowly and with great pain. I am capable of that. That would not have been murder. That would have been just. But could I have killed an innocent woman and her boy? Daniel, how can you think that of me?"

Silence settled over the two men as they stared into the fire, alone within themselves. Finally Daniel turned to the Cherokee at his side and his words began to thaw the ice that was forming between them.

"Mingo, I don't think you could kill anyone that you thought was innocent. I could never believe that you killed a child. But you just confessed that you could have killed Silas. I admit that if I had been thinking straight I would have checked the area for sign. I wasn't thinking. Your knife in a man's chest, your things scattered at the site."

"Zach Morgan was wild with grief, the others uncertain but following his lead. There's a lot I should've done, should've said. But all I could think about was how much I valued your friendship. As the magistrate I knew I'd have to be the one to take you for punishment. It was Yad's shooting all over again. My mind just shut down. I'm sorry."

Mingo's eyes held Daniel's as the warm words flowed into his cold heart. He nodded but added his own flame to the pyre. "My mind was blank, but I knew I hadn't killed the boy or his mother. I knew it Daniel. A man knows his own heart. Why couldn't you accept that?"

"I would have faced the mob, gone to Salem to stand trial for Silas' murder, _if_ I thought you were by my side. But I knew you weren't. Is the law that important to you, or was it that you feared for you position as leader of the settlement? Were you concerned that the others, seeing what they thought was weakness and favoritism, would lose their respect for you?"

"They would have, there's no doubt. If I'm to lead Mingo, I must have respect. For their own good the settlement must have a leader. I'm the most experienced man there, I made the treaty with Menewa. Their very lives depend on me. You can't understand what that burden is like." Daniel's jaw tightened with his mounting anger.

Mingo's lips lifted into a small smile. "Didn't you seek that burden, Daniel? Didn't you choose to accept its restrictions and responsibilities? Rather like taking on the responsibility of a family, isn't it?"

"Choosing to accept it doesn't make it any easier! I'm really a simple man. I don't seek fame or fawning. I don't want pats on the back. I want those that love me to find me worthy of that love. That's all."

"I think most of us want exactly that. I think that's what drove Stephen to murder. Fortunately, that desire doesn't drive most of us to that extreme."

Daniel nodded his agreement. He was silent for several seconds, then continued. "When we recover our furs we need to stop by Garth's place. I don't want to, but we need to tell him about his son."

Mingo finished his coffee in silence and unrolled his blankets. He tossed Daniel his own blankets. As the two prepared to bed down for the night Mingo faced his friend once more. "I also need to make my apology to him Daniel. I judged him in my mind just as surely as Zach Morgan judged me."

Daniel looked into Mingo's firelit face and nodded his understanding. They stretched out beside the glowing coals, wished each other a good night and fell quickly asleep.

A week later they gathered their furs and with determination walked the short distance to Joseph Garth's cabin. It was midmorning and they knew the miner would be busy tearing coal from the seam. Neither man wished to see Evelyn Garth's wounded eyes so they continued straight to the mine. Several yards from the entrance they stopped at the sound of the pickaxe chopping into the coal seam. With a heavy sigh Daniel stepped to the tunnel entrance and called the stocky miner.

Joseph appeared and faced Daniel Boone, his face smeared with coal dust, his jaw clenched. Daniel explained about the jailbreak and the resulting pursuit. When he finished the failed father's head rested on his chest, his eyes blank with despair.

"Joseph, your son is a man. You can't live his life for him."

"Mr. Boone, I tried doing that and this is the result. How could I have been so wrong?"

"I'm a father too, and I make mistakes. It's the nature of man. All you can do is your best. Orville and John are coping with new lives. Stephen made his own choices. You tried to help him when he needed you. But you couldn't hide the crime of murder. I am truly sorry for you and your wife."

The heavy miner nodded in silence, then turned to disappear into his darkness. Mingo swallowed and stepped forward, his brown eyes filled with contrition. "Mr. Garth. I owe you an apology. I immediately believed in your guilt, denying you your right to be considered innocent. I admit my fault and ask your forgiveness."

The heavy miner faced the tall Cherokee. Their eyes locked for several seconds. Then Joseph Garth extended his blistered, work-worn hand to the man before him. Mingo silently took the offered hand and acceptance passed between the two men. "Mr. Garth, I want you to keep the furs that Stephen took from my people. Use them as you see fit."

With a heavy sigh the miner nodded and entered his coal mine. The dim tunnel had become a metaphor for his life. Narrow, confined, demanding. No one could help with the damaging memories. He was alone with his choices. He would always be alone with them.

Sadly Daniel turned to his trustworthy friend and together they walked back to their own lives. As the days passed they talked of Joseph Garth and his errors. They further explored the tragedy of the Morgan family's death and Mingo's treatment at the hands of the settlers he had fought beside. Finally the two men came to the conclusion that law was a set of rules used to control men's behavior and justice was true fairness. They likewise agreed that law was simple to administer but justice was terribly difficult.

Welcomed home by Rebecca and his children, Daniel sat alone before his fire thinking about the nature of friendship and the healing power of confession. Outside in his nearby shelter, Mingo did the same. Their minds replayed the tragedy of Joseph Garth's life. The winter darkness finally absorbed their thoughts and they slept.

Menewa accepted Mingo's position regarding the punishment of Stephen Garth. Mingo led a party of Cherokee to the murdered trappers' treetop burials and together they took their countrymen home. The peace continued, carefully guarded by fallible men and women. They did the best they could and forged communities built on trust and honor. Their legacy was the foundation stone of all the succeeding generations. When forgiveness is sought, errors can be forgiven.


End file.
